“It is thanks to Jonah,” she said drily, pleased with the steadiness of her voice.
“It is thanks to this beautiful home you have, where peace and love prevail and everything works out for the best.” Tristan gestured to the patchwork of fields outside, now darkening beneath the setting sun.
“How very romantic of you.” Frida could no longer hide her smile. “I believe you have mayhap imbibed too much wine, brother.”
“Methinks we are all a little guilty of that.” Callum joined them and claimed his wife with a kiss. “’Tis time to retire. My bed is calling.”
“I will come up as well.” Frida’s hand rested on her ripe belly. “’Tis tiring carrying this little one around all day.”
Mirrie’s earlier elation was swamped by a wave of sorrow. What she wouldn’t give for a loving husband and a baby on the way.
As Callum and Frida departed, Tristan once again took hold of her arm. “I mean it,” he whispered. “You have made me a very happy man.”
Mirrie tried to smile up at him, aware of Jonah’s all-seeing gaze from his usual position by the fireplace.
“As ever, I aim to please the de Nevilles,” she quipped, reaching for humour.
Something passed over Tristan’s face, making his expression oddly inscrutable. For a moment he drew her close; so close their breath mingled together.
“You could never do anything other than please us,” he stated, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before he abruptly turned to leave.
Brotherly affection, she told herself, wrapping her arms about her shoulders as she watched him stride from the great hall.
She must cling tightly to that undeniable truth in the days ahead.
Chapter Three
The day dawnedbright and clear, with cornflower blue skies and a promise of heat to come. Tristan had slept with the shutters open; he woke with a smile on his lips, bathed in a pool of light. The morning chorus of birdsong filled the air, louder than a peal of bells from a cathedral.
Laying on his narrow but comfortable pallet in a small guest chamber, Tristan felt all of this as a blessing. Yesterday, he had been peevish and cross when he had awakened, but today all had been restored to its natural order.
He was happy.
He had a plan that was sure to work.
He would get his way.
A fly buzzed near his head and as Tristan swatted at it, his hand glanced across an unfamiliar growth of stubble which made his lips wrinkle with distaste. He had ridden from Wolvesley in what could only be described as a blaze of bad temper yesterday, not bothering to take the time to shave beforehand. Now, what he really needed was a good bath and a shave, to remove away the heat and grime of the road, before enduring it all again.
He sat up, groaning at the pain in his head and remembering, regretfully, the strong wine he had drunk with so much relish last night.
A swim in the sea would put much of this to rights.
Tristan heaved himself upwards and took the two steps towards the open window, breathing in big lungfuls of fresh country air tinged lightly with sea salt.
Aye, a swim was just what he needed. He would go down to the cove before breaking his fast.
Whilst Frida had always been drawn to the standing stones during their childhood visits to Ember Hall, Tristan’s deepest love was reserved for the deserted cove, with its rearing granite cliffs and sandy beach. It was where he had learned to swim—and where he had first learned to defy his parents, for Morwenna did not like her beloved son to go down to the cove alone, but young Tristan could not stay away.
Sounds reached him from the stable yard; horses being led out and stable hands shouting to one another. He winced at the volume, wondering why there was so much activity at this early hour. A knock came at his door and he bade the person enter before remembering that he wore nothing more than his braies.
Thankfully, it was only Jonah.
“Brother.” A faint smile hovered across his sensitively-drawn face as he stood in the doorway. “I see I have caught you before you had a chance to dress. Shall I send up a manservant?”
Still grappling with the last vestiges of sleep, Tristan did not realise he was being baited. “I left Alfred behind at Wolvesley. Frida always tells me there is not room enough for manservants here.” He rubbed his eyes. “Has she been lying to me all these years?”
Jonah laughed at him openly. “I am jesting, Tristan. How long is it since you last had to dress yourself? Can you e’en remember how?”
